Casualty of Conflict

Chris is with the 2PARA continguent sent as part of the task force to take back the islands for the British. His wife, Shona, is heavily pregnant and awaits his return, her lonliness and fear for her husband's safety is crushing her.

An emotional story following his part in the attack on Goose Green and her day-to-day life as a serving soldier's wife.
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Chapters:

"Sergeant, the Major is calling!" The young signaller
had to yell to break through the fog of sleep.

"One moment soldier."

Chris rubbed his eyes as he stood, the sleep had increased the
feeling of fatigue and he yawned indulgently whilst walking to
where the radio was situated.

"Sergeant McCall here." His voice sounding far more alert than he
felt.

"Sergeant, how is everything up there?"

"All quiet on the Northern Front, Sir!"

Chris stifled another yawn.

"Good, part of the mortar platoon and their guard are moving
toward you now. Once they're dug in, I want you to push on and
assault the positions east of you."

"OK, Sir... And Major? Good luck down there."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Same to you. Don't do anything to get
yourself killed."

"Easier said than done in our line of work, Major." Chris smiled
grimly as he handed the headset back to the signaller.

"Private, pass word for the squad leaders to join me please."
Chris walked off toward his Bergen to get breakfast on the go as
he waited for the rest of the platoon NCO's.

They all joined him as the rations had finished heating up and he
ate as he updated them on the plan for the day.

"OK guys, tell your men to grab a warm meal, it'll be cold
rations until we take the next position. It's going to be
bright-fuckin'-daylight we're attacking in today so get everyone
to apply cam-paint and keep them firing and manoeuvring. Got it?"
They all nodded. "OK, piss off, am eatin'!" He grinned, trying to
show them more confidence than the gut-loosening fear he really
felt.

Finishing his meal in silence, Chris gazed in to the
near-distance; he could make out the outline of the next position
through the early morning fog. With binoculars or a rifle scope
he could probably make out the enemy numbers but decided against
it. Better to fear the worst and hope for the best.

"Sergeant!" Chris turned to see Private Cole standing there with
a full mess tin in his hand.

A few moments passed as the young man twitched nervously.

"I'm not a mind-reader Private!"

"Sorry Sergeant." He snapped to attention, minus the salute.

"Sit down before you get me shot." Chris growled, he wasn't
worried about any snipers yet but the Private had interrupted his
planning.

"I'm worried I'll freeze up out there." He looked ashamed of his
admission.

"You won't!" Chris said simply, then realised he'd need to
elaborate. "Listen in. Cole, if you keep thinking you'll freeze
it'll eventually happen. Fear is good, mate; it keeps you alert,
gets the adrenalin going but you can't let it control you. If you
do, you're fucked; you'll get yourself and others killed. Just
remember we're part of a team, jus' concentrate on watching your
mates' backs and they'll watch yours. We're all scared shitless,
so you aren't alone; just do not let fear win, remember your
mates and remember your training," he was rather more harsh than
intended but the message seemed to be sinking in.

They sat in silence until a Corporal shouted for Chris.

"What's all th' screamin' about?" Chris asked as he arrived
beside one of the Junior Corporals.

"Mortars are here."

At that moment a man approached them, wearing the same insignia
on his arm, showing he was also a member of the Parachute
Regiment.

"Stevie, ya big ugly fucker!" Chris smiled as he recognised his
old friend from basic training.

"Chrissy? I though' y'u'd be dead b' now, but by-fuck, it looks
like you're in charge." Steve replied, genuinely impressed and
proud of friend.